In Sickness and in Health
by ThatRosieSparkle
Summary: Sequel for To Have and to Hold. Renji may have left, but that doesn't mean he's safe. In fact, he's far from it. Renji/Ichigo


**A/N: Right. A sequel for To Have and to Hold was demanded, and so was consequently written. However, when I was just putting the finishing touches to it, I received Leila's review (Dammit woman, why was it written anonymously?). Read it if you care about what I'm going to say next.**

**I thought about what you said, and seriously considered a prequel, dealing with the development of Renji and Byakuya's relationship and perhaps showing Renji's previous attempts to leave, as were mentioned in your review. I then remembered that I'd made it quite clear that that was the first time Renji had been hit, and that it was the catalyst for the whole plot. I also couldn't have Renji go back to Byakuya after To Have and to Hold because it is quite clear that he has most definitely left.**

**My reasons: One, Renji is a strong character and, despite being hopelessly in love with Byakuya, he has limits that he is pushed past. Two, Renji can leave, and has the strength to leave, because of Ichigo. This is the premise of the entire story, as it shows how Ichigo effectively saves Renji from this relationship that has turned sour before it gets truly out of hand.**

**Mysterious Leila, wherever you are, please appreciate the ditherspaz that what you said sent me into, and I hope this isn't a disappointment. To the rest of you, thank you for putting up with the stupidly long note and me in general. Enjoy!**

In Sickness and in Health

_He was falling, uncontrollably, through darkness and silence. Crushing blackness pressed down upon him, forcing the air from his lungs, suffocating him. He twisted, round and round, seeing above him the rapidly shrinking white of a captain's haori and below an open doorway; an open, gaping hole._

_He plummeted towards it, through it, against it, catching on sharp edges and blunt faces, emerging bruised and bloody on the other side. Bright, flashing lights burned the backs of his eyes, disorientating him until he landed on cool, soft cotton with a thump, breathing a sigh of relief._

_He lay, panting, willing away the aching of his battered muscles in the calm, quiet, blank space. A sinking feeling began knotting itself in the pit of his stomach and his eyes snapped open in horror as the sheets started to slide away from beneath him, swallowing him whole. He scrabbled and clawed at smooth, black stone walls now closing in around him, yelling and shouting in terror; wild, desperate noises echoing and calling back to him like wounded, hunted animals' cries._

_A smiling face appeared above him and reached out a hand as if to help. He went to grab it, but was met with thin, white fingers shooting straight past his own and towards his face. They closed around his throat, vice-like and cold, choking him; grabbing, clasping, squeezing, hurting._

_He hung, suspended in the air by the human noose around his neck, struggling for breath and dying. Laughter trilled around him, bouncing off the dark marble, magnified and cutting. It split through his head like a scream. He couldn't breathe._

_He couldn't breathe._

Renji woke, gasping for air, clutching at the fading bruises beneath his jaw-line and shaking.

Moonlight shone through the window to his right and caught the fine droplets of sweat that sat, quivering on his skin like diamonds.

Panic and fear washed over him and he rode them out, nursing his temples and running trembling fingers through crimson hair.

He shivered. _I'm safe,_ he thought, sleep tugging at the edges of his consciousness once more, settling back onto his pillow, _I'm safe._

-- est continué --

Ichigo walked into his living room fresh from a shower, damp orange hair sticking out at wild angles from his head. He wore loose, dark navy jeans and a simple, white cotton t-shirt, sharply defined muscles half visible through the thin material.

Upon seeing the red-head sprawled across his sofa, eyes closed and headphones blaring, his mouth twitched into a smile. He slapped the long legs that took up half of the available cushions and Renji drew them up and out of the way, removing an earphone and quirking an eyebrow at Ichigo in the process.

"Slob," teased the teen, settling into the comfy leather and putting his feet up on the coffee table. He reached out and grabbed a book, leaning back and allowing Renji's legs to stretch out again across his own, ankles crossed and toes flexing like a cat's.

"Swot," murmured the vice-captain, eyeing the paperback in Ichigo's hands with resentment. Ichigo shot him a withering look and shoved at his legs, causing him to roll unceremoniously onto the carpet with a yelp.

The teen was chuckling, and, from the floor, Renji attempted to look offended, only succeeding in fuelling Ichigo's laughter. He crawled back onto the couch, embarrassed, sitting with his legs tucked beneath him, and crossed his arms sulkily.

Ichigo put his book down and sidled over to the grumpy vice-captain, resting his head on Renji's chest in a silent effort to say sorry.

Reaching down to lazily run his fingers through the orange locks before him, Renji sighed in contentment. Ichigo glanced up into the vice-captain's face and grinned, shimmying up his lithe body in order to plant a gentle kiss on his full lips.

Pulling away and looking hopefully into garnet eyes, Ichigo stole another quick peck, fingers combing through crimson hair. Renji had shut his eyes again, and the teen took his chance to press their mouths together once more, lingering for longer and beginning to nibble at the vice-captain's bottom lip.

Meeting no resistance, Ichigo deepened the kiss, tongue exploring the hot caverns of Renji's exquisite mouth, his hand sliding down towards Renji's stomach. Lean fingers found rough denim and began playing, inching towards buttons and zips, but Renji pulled back, hand clasping Ichigo's wrist, eyes shining with sadness and fear. "No," he whispered, nuzzling the teen's neck and gently placing rogue hands back where they ought to have been.

Ichigo sat up, frustrated, and kneaded his forehead with his palms. "You're right," he muttered, mentally kicking himself, "It's too soon, I shouldn't -" He broke off, gazing sadly at Renji. His brow was knotted with regret and apprehension lined his face.

Renji had the grace to look apologetic, but a tiny glint of fear remained in his ruby eyes, catching in the lamplight, highlighting the half-healed gash above his inked eyebrow and dark purple patches on his pulse points.

"I can't do this," Ichigo breathed finally, "I want you too much. I can't -" He sucked in a deep breath of air and steadied himself, "I can't wait." His chocolate brown eyes glared determinedly at the floor, shame forbidding him from looking at the red-head beside him. "I'm sorry," he muttered, standing up and padding towards his bedroom, door slamming shut behind him.

Renji stared at his fingers, abandoned on the sofa. He turned his right hand over so it was palm up, eyes idly following the criss-crossed tracks of scar tissue as he murmured into the empty room, "I'm sorry."

-- est continué --

Ichigo poked at the noodles in front of him, morosely pushing them around in idle circles, drawing patterns in the sauce.

He hated himself for being so impatient. Renji was hurt; wounded and vulnerable. He had known that there wouldn't be a straight-away fairytale ending. He wasn't expecting Renji to cry, "Oh, Ichigo! You've saved me from my evil captor!" and throw himself into his arms so that they could ride off into the sunset. He knew Renji would need time.

So why had he kissed him? As soon as the red-head had come to him for security, for reassurance, he had kissed him, then and there, in his kitchen. It was wrong; wrong, wrong, wrong. Renji would start to think the only way people would care for him would be if he shagged them.

All Ichigo had to do was be there: offer a safe place for Renji to stay and collect himself, put back together again the broken pieces of his fragmented soul. He'd been ripped apart completely, and needed Ichigo to lean on.

But Ichigo had kept kissing him, kept on pushing him. It wasn't fair. He was just as bad as Byakuya.

He mentally kicked himself again, jabbing viciously at a piece of chicken, resolving to keep his ridiculous urges under control.

"You eating that?"

Ichigo glanced up with an intelligent, "Huh?" and was greeted by Rukia's amused face looking back at him; eyebrows raised, the corner of her mouth drawn upwards. He tried to shake away the frown that had etched itself deep into his forehead and replied, "Yeah, I was just… thinking."

Rukia rolled her eyes and laughed, "Obviously," taking a sip from her glass of sake. "So how's it going having Renji round?" she asked after taking a particularly large bite of her duck.

"Great, yeah," mumbled Ichigo, "Great fun." Rukia smiled. She had no idea why Renji was really staying with Ichigo, her and the rest of Soul Society simply seeing it as two friends spending some extra time together: male bonding, don't interfere etc. Ichigo was shocked that no-one had noticed how much Renji had changed, had suffered, but put it down to the fact that they had no reason to suspect anything was wrong in the first place. Byakuya and Renji's relationship had been a complete secret after all, lest anyone found out that a captain was doing the dirty with a subordinate officer.

Rukia's babbling brought Ichigo floating back into the restaurant in which he was sitting, and he caught the last few lines of what she was saying: "…so eight should be okay. I mean, Shuuhei said that anyone can come along, so it'll be great."

Ichigo nodded, "Great, yeah, eight." Then, after a while, "Why?"

He was given a scathing look as Rukia went to stab a vegetable, "Do you ever pay attention?" She was answered by a noncommittal shrug from her orange-haired friend and sighed exaggeratedly, explaining in an exasperated tone, "It's Kira's birthday on Saturday and Shuuhei's holding a surprise party. You and Renji should come."

"Ah, right," said Ichigo, pulling at a piece of hair behind his ear, "I heard Yachiru babbling about a party or something, but thought nothing of it because, well, you know, it was Yachiru."

Rukia chuckled into her sake, "So you're coming? You'll tell Renji?"

Ichigo fought back the urge to tell Rukia everything – why Renji shouldn't go anywhere near a party where there could, no, would be alcohol – but instead bit his tongue, smiling, "Yep, sure."

-- est continué --

Renji glared through the throngs of people out into the courtyard where Ichigo and Shuuhei were standing, chatting. His hand gripped a bottle of beer and his tattooed eyebrows were narrowed.

He saw the way Ichigo ran his hand through his hair every time Shuuhei absent-mindedly scratched his cheek. He saw the way Shuuhei would blush ever so slightly whenever Ichigo flashed one of his rare, charming smiles in his direction. He saw how each would touch the other's arm when talking. He saw it all.

The hand gripping the glass neck threatened to shatter it, and he released his tense hold marginally, willing himself to calm down.

There was absolutely no reason why Ichigo should feel tied to him in any way: he'd been rejected time and time again, despite his best efforts to coax a relationship out of Renji.

And yet, Renji couldn't stand the thought of Ichigo being with someone else. The teen was supposed to be looking after him, paying him his full and undivided attention. Renji needed him.

It was selfish, and yet so overwhelmingly powerful it hurt.

What hurt more, however, was when he caught sight of an orange head dipping down to whisper close to Shuuhei's ear, and the sickening grin it caused to spread across the officer's face.

Renji downed the beer in the bottle he had been strangling and ploughed deep into the crowd in search of stronger, more potent drinks, unable to watch anymore. The one person he had chosen to turn to for help, who had offered him his hand in support, had run off and left him. He felt totally alone, abandoned, forgotten and stupidly possessive.

He grabbed a bottle of vodka and took a slug. He was in self-destruct mode now, and there was no turning back.

-- est continué --

It was three o'clock in the morning: pitch black and freezing cold. Ichigo sat, waiting, folded and tensed on his sofa, chewing at his nails and tugging at his orange hair. Guilt gnawed at his stomach, knotting his insides and clawing up his throat. He felt sick.

A crash of the front door swinging open made him leap to his feet and sprint into the hallway. Renji lay, sprawled on the floor, weakly trying to push himself up on shuddery arms, head drooping uselessly, chuckling inanely.

"Where the fuck have you been?" screamed the teen, slamming the door shut and rounding on the vice-captain who had managed to prop himself up against the wall, red head lolling, smiling to himself.

Renji blearily looked up at the many orange-haired men looming above him, squeezing his eyes shut at the headache it gave him. His right arm gestured vaguely towards the door. "Out," he mumbled.

"No shit!" Ichigo yelled, clasping his neck in pent-up fear and aggravation, "I've been going out of my fucking mind over here. Thought you'd gone and -" Words failed him as he thought the unthinkable, livid face blanching. He sank against the opposite wall, burying his head in his hands, willing away all-too-real mental images of Renji lying in pools of his own blood, slowly dying by himself, alone somewhere. "Christ, Renji. Why? Why'd you do this to me?"

"Worried?" goaded the vice-captain. Ichigo looked at him with contempt and he blinked, snorting out a laugh, "Ya were gonna go an' fuck Shuuhei," he slowly explained, tongue grappling with every word. "Ya left me. Ya left me for fuckin' Shuuhei," he mumbled resentfully. He convulsed, shoulders shaking, and groaned.

"Jesus," muttered Ichigo, taking the red-head by the arm and pulling him to his feet. Renji wobbled and collapsed onto Ichigo, allowing himself to be almost carried into the bathroom.

Ichigo heaved his friend onto the floor, guiding the crimson head to dip over the toilet bowl. He knelt down beside the whimpering vice-captain and caught his loose, flaming crimson hair gently in one hand, rubbing his muscular back with the other in strong, circular motions.

Renji's body spasmed again and again as it violently got rid of the many bottles of vodka that sat in his stomach, poisoning him. Dry retches continued to shudder through him even after only the alcohol in his bloodstream was left, and Ichigo slipped out and into the kitchen, returning with a glass of water.

"You idiot," he murmured, feeding Renji tiny sips of water to cool his burning throat.

Leaning back heavily against the bathtub, Renji closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to shut out his friend. "Ya fuckin' left me," he mumbled, "Ya left. I need ya. But ya'd gone. With fuckin' Shuuhei."

The teen snapped back, "I'm your friend, not your fucking footslave."

Renji shook his head dumbly, "Ya can't leave me. I need ya. Ya can't."

"So, what?" cried Ichigo, "I'm not allowed to be with you, but I can't be with anyone else either? I have to give you my undivided attention, but you don't have to return the favour? I have to spend every waking moment with you, but I can't fucking touch you? Is that how it is?"

Brown eyes shone brightly with sadness, frustration and anger; pain and want twisting themselves into Ichigo's desperate expression. He looked away, tearing at his hair, as if merely the sight of Renji could hurt him.

From his position on the cold tiles, Renji nodded, slowly. "I need ya," he whispered, eyes still closed, head back, "I can't…"

Ichigo's head snapped around again upon hearing the vice-captain's voice trail off weakly, fearing the worst for the second time that night. He scrambled to the floor, slapping Renji sharply around the face, eyes flickering shut in relief as the red-head moaned in pain at the stinging contact. He hauled the vice-captain to his feet, dragging him out of the bathroom and into the guest's bedroom where he'd been sleeping since seeking refuge at Ichigo's.

Depositing the now unconscious Renji onto the futon, Ichigo stood in the doorframe, indecisive, staring longingly at the broken mess of a person sleeping peacefully in the soft glow of the moon. "I don't know what to do," he breathed to himself, deciding to curl up in a chair in the corner of the room so as to keep watching on the red-head.

His brown eyes didn't leave the steadily rising and falling tattooed chest that was now bare, t-shirt having had to have come off in the bathroom, until he drifted into sleep himself, murmuring quietly before dreams finally took hold, "What are we going to do, Ren?"

-- est continué --

Tense quiet hung like a shroud in the living room, only interrupted occasionally by the ruffle of pages turning or the clink of ceramic against glass. If Ichigo strained his ears hard enough, a low rumble of bass and drums could be heard humming from Renji's earphones, but the two men sat apart, not speaking.

The orange-haired teen was on the sofa, legs tucked beneath him, thoroughly absorbed in his book, while the tattooed vice-captain was spread eagle on an armchair, eyes closed, head nodding slightly in time to the rhythms and beats only he could hear.

It was dark outside, stars beginning to prick at the midnight sky as tendrils of smoke-like cloud pulled apart, dissipating to leave the endless curve of night clear; inky black and glittering. A thin slice of silver hung in the abyss above them, weak fingers of light reaching through glass and dancing on skin.

A sharp tap on the front door broke the stifling atmosphere, and Ichigo closed his book, standing up with a sigh and wandering into the hallway, scratching at his neck. He pulled open the door, lifting his head to see who was calling so late and preparing to berate them for not having warned him.

Horror flashed in his eyes upon registering Byakuya, but he was too slow to react, the captain moving with lightning speed and slamming him against the wall, throat clenched by thin fingers, knocking the air out of the teen.

Renji shot into the corridor when he heard the almighty crash, only to find Ichigo pinned to the wall like a fly caught on a web, feet dangling uselessly as he was held in place by Byakuya's sheer strength. His brown eyes were wide, mouth opening and closing in a frantic attempt to suck in air.

He glared at the man suffocating him and kicked violently. The fingers around his throat slackened at the sudden contact and he squeezed his eyes shut in pain, drawing in a sharp breath and calling out desperately, "Get out, Renji."

Byakuya shot him a poisonous look and his pale fingers resumed their grasp. The captain's fierce eyes and snarling face turned towards the red-head standing frozen in the doorway to the lounge, and Ichigo's own defiant gaze followed. He struggled upon seeing Renji, once more temporarily loosening the grip around his neck and screaming, "Renji, GO," before Byakuya tightened his hold again, choking him.

Renji stayed where he was, however, glued to the spot by fear. The captain ignored him for now, instead fixing wild eyes upon the helpless teen in front of him. His fingers dug themselves deeper, eliciting a strangled gag from his captive, and he shoved his face up close, sneering, contorted mouth inches away from blueing lips. "You -"

Ichigo's lids fluttered shut, eyes rolling as he was starved of oxygen, and Byakuya's other hand slapped him hard around the face so as to keep his attention. He continued, not loosening his tight grasp, "- taking what's not yours." His lips curled in disgust, nostrils flaring as he glanced at Renji. "He's mine," he hissed, relinquishing his hold and pushing Ichigo against the wall one last time before he crumpled, lifeless, to the floor.

Satisfied, the dark-haired man turned away from the now bleeding teen by his feet, eyes coming to rest upon his vice-captain. He smirked, taking a step towards his prize, picking his feet out from underneath Ichigo's limp body.

"Leave, Byakuya," ordered Renji quietly, cherry gaze flitting terrified to the unmoving, orange-haired shinigami, muscular body tensed.

The captain flashed him a feral grin, greed and hunger glinting in his steely eyes. "Or what?" he taunted, coming closer, haori fluttering.

Renji's stare hardened, "Or I'll make you."

Byakuya laughed: a cold, cruel sound intended to mock and scorn. "You wouldn't dare," he snarled, stopping inches away from his vice-captain and placing his hands around the red-head's waist, gripping beneath his ribs possessively and pulling him roughly closer.

Ruby eyes lowered and Renji's strong frame softened. He leaned slightly forward, into the captain's arms, and Byakuya smirked, before noticing the tanned hands that had grabbed his shoulders. Renji threw the captain around, icy blues eyes widening in surprise before he hit the wall and fell, a thin trickle of blood making its way down his cheek from beneath black hair.

Renji stood, stunned at what he had done, mouth slightly open, fingers flexing nervously. He seemed unsure of what to do with himself, but a second later he was on his knees, scooping an orange head gently into his tattooed arms. He looked at Ichigo's neck and gasped sharply; angry red marks marred the tender skin, shocking purple bruises already starting to form by his pulse points. The teen had hit his head against the wall when he'd collapsed, and blood was pooling on his jaw, collecting and dripping steadily onto the carpet, staining it a brilliant vermillion red, splashes of colour a stark, morbid contrast to the deathly pale skin over which it had run in rivulets.

Renji massaged Ichigo's chest, tears stinging at his eyes, blurring his vision. "Don't you fucking die on me," he spat ferociously, guilt and anxiety tearing him apart, "Don't you fucking dare."

A ragged, shallow breath ghosted across Ichigo's lips as Renji nursed his lungs back to working. Upon hearing the choked gasp, relief rushed through the vice-captain like a sea breeze over the shore, the waves of terror that had washed over him weakening and giving way to exhaustion. His shaking fingers stroked at Ichigo's orange hair, tears running freely down his cheeks. He hugged and clutched at the teen as his breathing slowly returned.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing a small kiss into silky locks, "I'm sorry."

-- est continué --

"Ren?"

Bleary chocolate eyes blinked as they opened to daylight, and Ichigo pushed himself up onto his elbows.

He was lying on his sofa, basked in the early morning warmth that was pouring in through the window. Renji was asleep on a chair to his left, crimson hair loose and partially covering his face, glinting like fire in the shafts of sunlight that illuminated his features; his tattooed forehead was frowning, creased with apparent worry, and his lips were tightly drawn.

Ichigo rubbed at his neck, causing pain to pulse through him. His skin felt tender and bruised, throat burnt and raw. He remembered the dark marks that had been painted on Renji's neck and chuckled to himself, "Snap," imagining his own.

He tried to turn his head and his vision slid out of focus, temple throbbing where it had smashed against the wall. "Woah," he muttered, squeezing his eyes closed in an effort to rid himself of the migraine that threatened to attack.

One ruby eye across the room opened and watched silently as Ichigo adjusted to his war wounds. When it seemed that the teen was suitably in control, Renji spoke aloud, "Mornin'"

Ichigo lifted his orange head, and Renji caught sight of the ugly bruises on his friend's throat. Anger at Byakuya bubbled in his stomach for having made Ichigo suffer, but Renji beat it down, knowing Ichigo wouldn't appreciate shouting after having whacked his head against hard plaster.

"Morning," grinned Ichigo. A spark of realisation shone in his hazelnut eyes and he spun round, craning his purple neck so as to inspect the hallway. Upon seeing it was clear, however, his face soon melted into a confused frown. "What have you done with Byakuya?" he asked curiously.

Renji attempted a smile and replied, "Got fourth squad ta take him away. Said he'd arrived drunk and fallen over." His cherry coloured eyes looked sheepishly at Ichigo across the sun-bathed carpet, "Didn't tell them about ya, 'cause ya were sleeping."

Nodding his approval, Ichigo pointed at his neck and enquired, "As impressive as yours?"

Renji stood up and walked over to him, sitting on the sofa beside the teen and inspecting the marks, gingerly prodding with an outstretched finger. Ichigo hissed in pain and Renji leaned back. "More so," he answered with a grimace.

A weary laugh, and Ichigo turned so that his forehead could rest against Renji's tattooed own. One of his hands knotted itself in the vice-captain's flaming locks and the other clung to the back of his neck. Renji's tanned fingers came up to cup Ichigo's cheek, thumb brushing against his lips.

They stayed like that for minutes, hours, days, with no regard or need for time, each taking comfort from the other's mere presence and touch. Ichigo tilted his head slightly, nuzzling Renji's cheek, and the vice-captain slid his hand round so that it was buried in the soft, orange locks that stuck out and tickled his temples. He pushed gently and their mouths collided, gentle heat passing between them, a slow-burning passion kindling itself in their kiss.

Lips quickened their pace and opened, tongues tentatively tracing lines and patterns on willing flesh, eventually meeting and spurring each other on to explore further and faster.

Fiery lust ignited itself and they sank back onto the cushions, hands roaming over one another, mapping out muscles and contours beneath trembling fingertips.

"You know what?" Ichigo breathed shakily into the kiss, "I think I love you."

-- est continué --

"Fuck, Ichi,"

Renji threw his head back as he pressed himself – gently, at first – into the orange-haired shinigami beneath him. He was greeted by an impassioned moan as Ichigo arched his back, panting heavily.

Slick heat engulfed him and he stilled his animal urges, allowing Ichigo time to adjust. The teen was shaking with desire and Renji pulled back slowly, once more sliding into his lover who sucked in a sharp breath. He drew out and slammed in, losing control of his reserve, instinct and lust taking over.

Pace picking up, they hungrily mashed their mouths together, tongues matching the rhythm of their pounding, bucking hips. Hands and fingers erratically drank in faces and features, running through fiery hair and tugging at soft locks in ecstasy.

Ichigo bit roughly at Renji's bottom lip, receiving a groan and particularly powerful thrust in response. Renji sucked on the skin beneath Ichigo's jaw, marking the freshly healed skin yet again, making the teen writhe beneath him and pull him closer, strong hands clutching firmly at his painted back.

The legs wrapped around his waist tightened their pincer-like grip as Ichigo begged for more, catching his lips again in a blinding kiss. Renji's fingers, in return, tightened their exquisite hold around Ichigo and pulled, sliding over velvet soft skin with intensely hot friction.

Ichigo shuddered, and the vibrations tipped Renji over the edge completely. He buried himself deep as he came, hitting the elusive bundle of nerves when he did so and bringing Ichigo screaming along with him.

"Ren -" gasped the teen, head thrown back, hands grappling wildly at the sheets, clawing desperately at tanned skin.

They rode the high as one, breathing raggedly and crashing their lips together once more.

Rolling off the teen but staying wrapped loosely in his arms, Renji tried to regain control of his breathing. Ichigo lay, unable to move, beside him, eyes closed. The vice-captain flopped his head to the left, seeing only an ear poking out from underneath orange hair. He kissed the silky locks and Ichigo moaned by way of reciprocating.

He chuckled, "You know I love you, Ichigo?"

The teen put every remaining ounce of energy he had into rolling his head to the right, reaching out and pressing his lips to the vice-captain's. "Yes," he mumbled softly before his eyes flickered shut, sleep claiming him.

Renji reached out with his mouth once more, kissing the slightly parted lips of the sleeping teen before closing his own ruby eyes, muttering quietly, "Good."

**.:Collapses:.**

**Rosie (weakly): Review?**


End file.
